Lap Dog
by The Blue Raven
Summary: Blue’s twisted remix of the episode ‘The Beast’. It’s a dog’s life for Meterand when he ends up in the body of a slightly less imposing host than a German Shepard.
1. Chapter 1

**Lap Dog**

Summary: Blue's twisted remix of the episode 'The Beast'. It's a dog's life for Meterand when he ends up in the body of a slightly less imposing host than a German Shepard.

Rating: PG

Spoilers: "The Beast", of course. Spoilers for the pilot. Minor spoilers for "Area 51".

Author's Note: Mahalo to Kameka for Betaing :)

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but, hey, just as soon as that deal with Zin goes through...

Feedback is better than Fek-Maln and good, bad, or ugly, it is always welcomed and much appreciated. Otherwise, how do I know what I'm doing right and wrong?

**Chapter 1**

Lana shifted uncomfortably under Zin's scrutiny. Less than two days into his stay on Earth and already she was becoming the bearer of bad tidings. _Very_ bad tidings. It could not possibly bode well for their future on this mud-ball.

"Not enough humans on the train?" Zin repeated quietly, blinking as he tried to process what the girl was getting at. The picture she was laying down between the lines was not a pretty one, not when exposure to this planet's atmosphere was fatal to all but in-tact life-forces. "I see, Lana."

"Now, as I stated, we did manage to get most of the excess life-forces into containment before they could die, but... there was a..." She shifted again, staring at her feet and needing a drink in a very bad way. "There was a... a small problem with Meterand." 

"How small?" Zin demanded, rising. Meterand was one of his most loyal followers. Except for that thing with Zin's wife...

_About five pounds._ Lana fought the urge to laugh at that stray thought. She had been torn between laughing, screaming, and hiding from Zin since hearing the news.

"What has happened, Lana?" Zin demanded gently. "And how much is it going to cost me to fix?"

She closed her eyes. "Uh, we may still be a little away from... having the capacity to... _fix_ it," she managed, biting her tongue hard enough to draw blood rather than risking laughter at the idea of 'fixing' Meterand. "But we're getting there."

"What has happened?" he repeated, scowling at her uncharacteristic evasiveness.

"Meterand... _somehow_, he... as one of the last through the worm-hole, he has... ended up in an... extremely unsuitable host."  

Zin frowned at her uncharacteristic evasiveness. "What? His host is sick? Injured?" 

"His host is not human," she whispered, wincing against a blow that never came. When she opened her eyes and looked up again, he was staring at her with wide eyes and a confused expression.

"Not human?" Zin repeated quietly. "There is other intelligent life on this planet? Why was I not made aware of this, my dear?" he asked gently.

Lana shifted uneasily at that calm, quiet tone. She had known Zin long enough to know that there was nothing calm about him at present. 

"There is no other intelligent life on this planet, sir. Meterand's host is a member of a sub-sentient slave species."

"An _animal_?" Zin demanded, glaring at her. Behind him, a 50-gallon salt-water aquarium shattered. "Which sort? A pack animal? A hunting animal?" He demanded the clarification without paying the least attention to the several thousand dollars worth of fish drowning in the open air on his office floor.

"A..." Lana cleared her throat. "A house pet, sir. Humans keep animals as _pets_, sir. For companionship..."  she explained uneasily, making a mental note to get the aquarium replaced and the carpet shampooed.

"I see. And have your people retrieved him?"

"They have, sir." Lana bobbed her head nervously a few times. Here it came, the inevitable request.

"I'd like to see him."

"I'll... have him brought in," she murmured, turning and opening the door. "Can we get him in here?" she shouted into the hall.

"Can he be expected to be of _any_ use to us, Lana?" Zin sighed as they waited.

"Um..." Lana hesitated. "It is not... _completely_ inconceivable..." She cleared her throat at the look Zin was giving her. "His intelligence remains intact, according to our doctors, and he is aware of what has happened. His allegiances remain unaltered..."

"So he remembers us?"  
"I'd have to say so based on the fact that the first thing he did when he saw me was to _bite_ me, sir," Lana assured him, nodding uneasily and displaying her fingers, still seeping a small amount of blood. She did not mention that Meterand had spent the rest of the morning sleeping comfortably in the lap of Zin's current mistress. Some things never did change, it seemed. "A police report on his host's disappearance has already been filed. The dog... apparently it had some material worth. As a species, they are valued for their bloodlines as well as the companionship they offer and the host's bloodline was impeccable." Smiling faintly, she added in a low voice, "Which gives Meterand a better pedigree than he _ever_ could have hoped to claim otherwise..."

"Lana!" Zin chuckled, shaking his head. "How can you be in such a mood at a time such as this?"

"Admittedly, sir, I was initially as angry and as concerned as you are." Then she had actually _seen_ Meterand's new host. "But you have always taught me that one must... learn to put situations into their proper perspective," she added, biting her lower lip to keep from smiling. There was a soft tap on the door. "He always _was_ a most satisfactory lap-dog," she pointed out gravely, opening the door and accepting Meterand from a runner who obviously just wanted to be able to... run. Holding him tightly and making sure his teeth were nowhere near any exposed skin this time, she turned to face Zin. "Uh... Doctor Zin, your bodyguard's new host."

Zin stared with wide eyes at the growling fur-ball that Lana was holding in front of her, at arm's length from her chest. He was suddenly much better able to see what the girl found amusing in the current situation.

"Meterand, my friend?" he asked uncertainly. The creature tilted its head at him and nodded. "Ah." Zin nodded faintly, clearing his throat. "You say this creature is called a dog?" he asked Lana.

She nodded faintly. "Yes. _Canis__ familiaris_ is the scientific term, but it's much more commonly just called a dog. The species 'dog' is broken down into literally hundreds of different forms which come in so many different shapes and sizes that many are hardly recognizable as members of the same species," she explained, placing Meterand on the floor. He snarled at her once, snapped at her ankle, and then went to sit next to Zin when he saw that she had changed into steel-tipped boots. The top of his head barely reached Zin's ankle. "This one is called a Pomeranian, I'm told. I, uh... I have his papers here," she muttered, pulling them out of an inside pocket in her suit and passing them to Zin with a barely-suppressed smile. "_Wonderful_ pedigree, as I said. I've done some study on this subspecies and they cannot be expected to exceed about eight pounds. Based on its parentage, this one will probably be closer to six at full growth," she added quietly. "Uh... if it weren't stolen, we could make a lot of money..." She cleared her throat. "Putting him out to stud..."

Meterand snarled at her as Zin did his best not to laugh. He knew he should not encourage the girl who was clearly enjoying herself far too much at Meterand's expense, but it _was_ rather amusing.

"I'd learn to be more civil to Lana if I were you, my friend," Zin advised Meterand gently. "You no longer have the size-advantage you once did..." 

Ironic given the way that Meterand had once been able to frighten the girl simply by glaring and baring his teeth. _Doubly_ ironic given that Lana's human host was more than two inches shy of five feet tall.

Meterand just glared at him.

"Well, I'm sorry, but you _don't_," Zin said, shrugging. Served Meterand right for having once taken pleasure in intimidating the child. "Lana... learning how to transfer life-forces to new bodies has just become your division's top priority, obviously," he told her.

"I will convey this to them," Lana assured him, bowing. "But many people are already curious as to what has become of Meterand," she added quietly. 

"You will tell them nothing. Only that he is alive and well, if currently occupied elsewhere."

"Yes, sir." She paused and cleared her throat before adding with a faint smile, "I believe he's... due for another... walkie, sir."

"_Walkie_?" Zin repeated, frowning in confusion. At his feet, Meterand made a disgusted noise and hid his face in his paws as Lana struggled not to laugh too much through her explanation.

***

Mel walked into the war-room to find Cole staring quizzically at a black and white picture of a Pomeranian. 

"Hey, thinking of getting a pet?" she asked, leaning over his shoulder for a better look at the picture.

"Pet?" he repeated, regarding her quizzically. 

"Uh, yeah. You were looking at the dog, so I thought maybe you wanted one as a pet." Mel nodded and considered for a moment before explaining, "Humans keep animals like dogs as pets, companions."

"Oh." Cole considered this for a moment before shaking his head. "No, Mel. I do not wish to pet a dog."

Mel smiled and shook her head. "You don't want a dog for a pet," she corrected him gently. "Petting a dog is different."

"Different how?"

"Uh, petting an animal is... a way of touching it."

"Show me?" he requested.

Mel colored faintly at the string of mental images evoked by Cole asking her to teach him how to pet. She was fairly certain that he did in fact understand the concept of 'petting' after that time in the bathtub, even if he did not entirely understand that he understood. Thinking about the way his hands felt on her throat, it occurred to her that he actually _did_ have a fairly advanced grasp of the concept, after all. At about that time, it also occurred to her that this was a very dangerous line of thought.

Smiling uneasily and clearing her throat, she assured him, "Next time we see a dog I will definitely show you how to pet it..."

Cole continued to regard her quizzically. "Mel?"

"Yeah?"

"Why has your face changed color?"

Mel giggled and covered her mouth with her hand, embarrassed. "Ah, never mind, Cole," she suggested after taking a moment to recover. Shaking her head, she nodded towards the picture of the dog again. "What's with Fluffy?"

"Fluffy?" he repeated, frowning.

"Random, generic dog name. Never mind, Cole. Why _are_ you looking at pictures of dogs?" she clarified, nodding to the other pictures scattered across his desk. All of them were Pomeranians, she realized, picking one up and scrutinizing it. "Very _nice_ dogs," she noted quietly after a moment, putting the picture down. "I don't think we could afford this one even if you _did_ want a pet."

Cole considered her words. "The creature is valuable?"

"Yeah." Mel nodded. "I have some friends, work with Poms, Pomeranians... twelve hundred is not even a little unreasonable for one this nice. With the right papers, it'd be even more."

Cole considered this for a moment. "They have value _beyond_ the companionship they provide, Mel?" he asked. "Why?"

"Uh..." She paused. "I'm honestly not sure everything that goes into it. Certain traits are just more desirable than others, I guess..." She shrugged. 

"They are intelligent?"

"Uh... sort of. Not as intelligent as humans, but... smart as animals go."

Cole nodded faintly. "How intelligent? Intelligent enough to learn how to perform simple tasks?"

Mel shrugged. "Depends on what you define as a simple task."

"Crossing a room while crawling on its belly under a laser-grid motion-detector six inches from ground level while carrying a small pack of explosives in its mouth, then placing the explosives in a specific location, setting a timer, and crawling away, all without triggering a fairly sophisticated human alarm system," he explained, putting more words together in that one sentence than she was used to hearing from him in an average day. 

And not a single grammatical error as far as Mel could tell. She was impressed. He was learning... 

Mel stared at him with wide eyes for a moment before shaking her head, as much to clear it as anything. Not only was hearing that much from Cole all at once surprising, but the meaning behind the words, once she digested them, was interested in themselves. She had seen some smart dogs in her time, and some impressive tricks, but actually _setting a timer_? Knowing to allow itself enough time to get out of the range of the explosion? Evading motion-detectors? Knowing where the laser-grid was and being able to cross a whole room without tripping it once?

"No, Cole. Last time I checked that is _not_ part of the curriculum at your average obedience-school." 

"Oh." Cole nodded thoughtfully, frowning.

"What's going on, anyway?" she asked when no further explanation seemed forthcoming. 

"This dog has been involved in a number of burglaries at banks and one at a museum in the past several weeks, Mel," he explained. 

"Using that... method you described?" Mel asked with wide eyes. 

No wonder poor Vic had been so distracted lately...

Cole nodded. "It is capable of evading a security system where a human could not. Once it has done so, it disables the system, allowing people to come in and take what they want without setting off the alarms." He gestured to one of his monitors, tapping commands into his keyboard and calling up a piece of security-camera footage. "There, Mel," he told her, pointing to a small blur in one corner of the image.

As Cole magnified that portion of the picture, Mel decided that it would probably be better not to ask where and how he had gotten the footage. She settled for, "What does this have to do with the fugitives."

He smiled curiously up at her. "How did you know it had to do with the fugitives, Mel?" he asked. 

She smiled slyly. "Feminine intuition, Cole."

"Oh." He nodded faintly, returning his attention to the security-camera footage. "A dog matching the description of this one was stolen from the train yards the day the fugitives came."

"Strange." Mel frowned, watching the footage over his shoulder as the dog used its nose to type a combination into a key-pad on the charge. "_Very_ strange," she amended, frowning and shaking her head. "You think they're training dogs to help them?" she asked. 

Why dogs, though? Accepting that particular use of an animal in a burglary, she could have thought of better animals to carry it off, smarter ones. Monkeys, maybe, or some kind of lemur... Something with an opposable thumb at the very least.

"I don't know, Mel." He frowned thoughtfully at the footage. "I have never seen a tactic such as this from any of the fugitives."

"Then how do you know they're involved?" she asked.

He smiled faintly up at her. "Masculine intuition, Mel?"

She chuckled and shook her head. "Okay, Cole... So what's our next step?"

"I must find out more about these creatures. If they are normally incapable of this level of behavior, the fugitives may have found a way to modify its brain, make it smarter. You said that you have friends who work with them?"

"Yeah." Mel nodded faintly. "Assuming they aren't out of town... I'll call them."

"Thank you, Mel." Cole smiled and nodded at her.

"What's been stolen, anyway?" Mel asked, pausing at the door. 

"They took money at the banks, Mel. No one knows _what_ was stolen from the museum or even if anything is missing yet."

"Oh. So... the museum was pretty recent, I'm guessing?"

He nodded. "It happened this morning, Mel. The storage rooms were... like they were searching for something. But nothing is where it should be, so they not yet sure what is no longer there."

"What kind of stuff was in the storage room?" Mel asked, thinking about what was valuable at a museum. "Paintings?"

He shook his head faintly. "The police-scanner called them... 'antiquities', ancient artifacts. But they were not more specific."

She nodded faintly. "I'll call David," she said over her shoulder as she left the room. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"No, Cole. Put the badge away. These people are my friends. They'll tell us what you want to know," Mel assured him as they walked across the stadium's Astroturf. 

Cole nodded faintly and tucked the badge out of sight. "These creatures are all dogs, Mel?" he asked, staring around the crowded arena with undisguised curiosity.

"Yeah. That's a German Shepard," she told him, pointing. "And an Old English there. And that one over there's an Australian Shepard. That's a Doberman," she added, nodding towards it as they moved on to the Toy area. 

"And they are _all_ the same species?" he asked, staring curiously at the tiny replica of a dog they had just passed. "Is this an infant Doberman, Mel?"

She smiled and shook her head. "That's a Manchester Terrier, Cole."

"What is the difference?" he asked, glancing uncertainly from one to the other.

Mel could tell by his close scrutiny and obvious confusion that he was looking for some difference in the markings and composition of the two. "The _size_, Cole," she explained, smiling reassuringly up at the befuddled man. "The Doberman will probably grow a few more inches. That's as big as the terrier's _ever_ going to get."

"Amazing," the Cirronian murmured, tearing his eyes away from the Manchester Terrier and glancing at a Papillion. He gave a wide smile, staring around in wonder. "They are all the same species?" he asked again. "So many different forms but just one species?"

"Yup." Mel nodded faintly. "These dogs represent like the best five percent of their breed. There are hundreds of different breeds out there. And those aren't even counting the mutts." 

"Mutts?" he repeated, frowning and shaking his head. "I don't know that word, Mel."

"Oh, sorry. Those are mixed-breed dogs. Dogs with parents from different breeds." 

"Oh." He nodded his understanding. "Why no mutts here?"

She grinned and shook her head. "They're only interested in purebreds."

"Why?"

"They just are." Mel shrugged. "I don't pretend to understand it." She paused, catching his arm. "Which reminds me, Cole... these people, dog breeders... they can be a little... off the beaten track." At his confused look, she gave up trying to be polite about it. "They're very strange people, Cole. Just so you know... And _whatever_ you do, do _not_ say anything about David's dog that isn't a compliment."

"Why, Mel?"

"Because he loves his dogs the way most men love their kids. He's proud of them and he doesn't like to hear them insulted."

"Then I will not insult his dog, Mel." He frowned as two people walked by, deep in conversation, turning and staring after them. "Mel, that woman just used a word you say is not acceptable in public..." he murmured.

Mel frowned, then grinned. "She said 'bitch', didn't she, Cole?"

He nodded, frowning after them. "You said it is a very rude term to apply to a person, Mel, and that woman just said that the other woman was a bitch. But... the other woman did not seem insulted."

"Cole, she didn't call the other _woman_ a bitch. She called the other woman's _dog_ one." Mel chuckled and shook her head. "That's what a bitch is, Cole, a female dog. That's why it's rude to call a person one, because of what it really means."

"But if humans cherish their dogs, why should this word be an insult?"

"Uh..." Mel shrugged. "No clue, Cole. It just kind of is. Come on." Grabbing his arm, she tugged until he started walking again. "Just forget that you heard her say it and don't try to use it yourself," she suggested, wincing to think of Cole inadvertently using it out of context. He did that sometimes, especially with colloquialisms. 

"Okay, Mel," he agreed, shrugging and following.

"David!" Mel called as they approached a man sitting and brushing a Pomeranian. 

"Mel! There you are." He rose instantly, carefully putting the dog down before catching Mel in a gentle hug. "Good to see you again."

"You, too. How's Chris?"

"He's good. Showing in New York this week."

"Still doing Poms?"

"No, actually." David shook his head. "He's into Wolfhounds now."

Mel's eyes widened. "_Big_ change."

"_Very_ big. I have to fight for a place on the couch these days," he chuckled, shaking his head. "But they've got a great temperament. Almost as good as Poms." He glanced over at Cole, crouching next to the sleeping Pomeranian and just staring at it, his back to the humans. "Ooh, would you look at _that_ view?" he breathed, nudging Mel.

She grinned. "I've seen it, thanks. But you have fun."

"Oh, I will, sweetie. Once you've introduced us..." David winked at her. 

Mel chuckled and shook her head. "Go easy on him, David, please?"

"Spoken for, is he?" David asked, giving Mel an approving smile. "You always did have great taste in the opposite sex, sweetie."

Mel rolled her eyes and shook her head. "No, David, we are _not_ involved. Cole's just..." She shrugged. "He doesn't always understand things on the same level as the rest of us do."

"With a body like that, who _cares_?"

"You're starting to sound like Jess."

"Another lovely lady with great taste in men." David winked at her. "You said he's a cop?"

"Sort of."

"Sort of? Ooh, and the plot thickens. A Fed?"

"Maybe." Mel grinned.

"Okay, okay. I won't ask." Fixed with a firm stare from Mel, he added, "And I won't hit on your boyfriend."

"I'm not her boyfriend," Cole provided helpfully as he joined them. "Mel is dating Detective Bruno. But I do appreciate your promise not to strike me," he added, looking a little confused.

David chuckled and shook his head. Mel had been right. Hot the man may have been, but he was definitely _not_ all there.

"So, Mel tells me you need some info on Poms?" he asked, getting down to business. "Show, breed, or pet?"

Cole's face became a mask of confusion as he tried to make sense of the question. Or had it been a request of some sort?

Mel smiled and rescued him. "Uh, Cole's not interested in breeding _or_ showing, David, and I don't think he wants a pet, either. He's interested in Poms for this case he's working."

Cole nodded faintly, deciding to let Mel take the lead since she seemed to have a firmer grip on the dialect of this particular subculture.

"One was... stolen from a train-yard a few months ago," she explained, seeing that Cole still seemed a little lost.

"Stolen?" David asked, stooping to pick up his dog. "Mel, you remember Betty, don't you?"

"This is... Oh, I didn't even recognize her, David! She was just this tiny little ball of fluff last time I saw her..."

"Yeah, and now she's looking to be a possible contender for best in show at Eukenuba," he told her, smiling proudly.

"Oh, that's great, David. I _know_ she'll at least make best in Group unless the judge is blind..."

"She really is a very lovely creature," Cole contributed, smiling down at the furry creature. "May we pet her?"

"Sure." David nodded and handed Betty to Cole.

Cole stared down at the dog with wide eyes for a moment before cradling it gently against his chest the way Mel's friend had been. Smiling, Mel buried her fingers in Betty's coat, giving her a good scratch. Cole tentatively followed suit, receiving a smile and a faint nod from Mel as confirmation that he was doing it right. The dog seemed to be enjoying herself, he noted with a smile. When it looked up at him, he bent slightly to give it a better look at him. The dog promptly started licking the shocked Cirronian's face.

"Mel?" he whispered, his eyes wide. "Why is it tasting me?"

Chuckling, Mel rescued Cole, handing Betty back to David and searching her purse for a tissue. "She's just being friendly, Cole," she explained.

"Licking a person's body qualifies as friendly?" Cole asked, frowning and wondering why Mel had never mentioned this particular custom before.

"Never mind, Cole," Mel suggested in a tight voice, handing him a tissue and glaring at David, who was laughing loudly. "And not a _word_ out of you, either, smart-ass," she ordered firmly.

"Oh, come on!" David protested, still laughing. "He gives me a opening like that and I'm not allowed to take it? You are a _cruel_ woman, Melanie Porter..."

"I do _not_ want Cole exposed to your version of humor, thanks. He's not ready for it. Hell, half the human race isn't ready for your brand of humor, David..." She chuckled and shook her head. "_Pomeranians,_" she reminded him.

"Right." He nodded, doing his best to compose himself. He was going to have to take Mel out drinking some time very soon and get the full story on her charming if clueless friend. Starting with whether or not he was involved and, if not, was he receptive to men getting 'friendly' with him. "What about them?" he asked, filing all those questions and jokes away for later and settling down to business. "You said one was stolen?"

Cole nodded. "Yes. He was being shipped from the kennel where he was born to the person who had just bought him."

David nodded. "What kennel?"

Cole leafed through the police-report he had brought. "Daisy Cutter's," he provided. 

David's eyes widened. "They breed some of the best Poms in the world. Bet came from Daisy Cutter's." 

"Did she?" Cole asked.

He nodded. "Daisy Cutter's Bouncing Betty. I don't think she's ever failed to at least _place_ in a show we've been in. Their dogs are the best."

"Valuable dogs?" Cole asked.

David nodded. "Expensive as _hell_, yeah."

"Then this would be a good motive to steal one," Cole said, nodding faintly.

"Are you kidding?" David scoffed, shaking his head. 

"What?" Mel asked, frowning.

"A dog's worth is in its papers. You steal an A.K.C. registered dog, and... it becomes worthless the minute the theft's reported. You can't can't breed it because the minute you entered it in a show, the A.K.C. would _know_ that it was the stolen dog."

"Could not new papers be forged?" Cole asked. "Or... papers from another dog used?"

"Well, sure you could forge papers." David shrugged. "But that's risky. I mean, forging papers... A.K.C. keeps records of the lines back for over a hundred years. If they were to look too closely, they'd _know_ something was up."

"And papers from another dog?" Mel asked.

He shook his head. "Well, sure, if it places enough at shows, but you'd  have to wait quite awhile before you see what kind of pups it throws. With the bloodline, they'd be good, but without a lot of placements, they wouldn't be worth as much."

Cole frowned faintly. All this talk of purebreds and crossbreds and inferior and superior bloodlines was starting to remind him of a political symposium he had once attended on Varda. 

"How intelligent are these creatures?" he asked.

David shrugged. "Pretty smart."

Mel jumped in before Cole could detail the specifics of the crime, knowing that it would only raise questions. "What about smart enough to perform a trick like, say... oh, remember a string of numbers and then punch them into a keyboard later?" she asked, trying to sound offhanded.

David frowned at the _very_ odd question. Taking a few minutes to consider, he shook his head. "I don't think so. I mean, I guess anything could happen and with the right training a dog could probably learn a trick like that in a few months..."

"What about a few weeks?" Cole asked.

David frowned. "I thought this was about a stolen dog..."

"It is," Mel assured him quickly. "It's just..." She sighed. "It's complicated, David. _Very_ complicated. You _really_ don't want to know."

He nodded faintly, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Well, if I don't want to know, sweetie, I'd best stop _asking_ questions and start answering them."

"Could a dog learn to type a combination on a keypad in a few weeks?" Cole asked again. "Five or six numbers long?"

David considered for a moment, then shrugged. "If you did nothing but train a dog to do a trick like that, day and night... you could_ maybe_ get it to be pretty good at it within five or six weeks."

"But not sooner? And not if it were learning to perform other tasks at the same time?"

David shook his head. "I've been working with Poms for twenty years now and I'd have a hard time doing it. It'd have to be a damned bright dog to begin with and the trainer would have to know his stuff..."

Cole nodded, filing this away. "Are they all this friendly and placid?" he asked, nodding towards Betty.

"Pretty much. Good temperament is one of the breed specs. Bet's a calm girl by temperament... I've seen some _hyper_ ones, but never a mean one."

"So they do not bite?"

"All breeds bite sometimes, but I've never known a Pom to bite unprovoked." 

"They are small. Can they bite hard enough to cause serious damage? Are they strong enough?"

"To cause _serious_ damage?" David repeated, shaking his head. "They could break the skin, probably, but I'd be surprised if they could even draw much blood."

"Thank you," Cole said, nodding. "May we contact you again if I have more questions?"

"Yeah." David reached into a pocket, pulling out his wallet and extracting a card. Handing it to Cole, he said, "And if I'm not answering because I'm in a show or something, that number there will get you in touch with Chris, who can _also_ answer pretty much any questions you may have. He knows his Poms almost as well as I do."

"Thank you," Cole told him, accepting the card and tucking it into his wallet. "I appreciate that you took the time to help us."

Chris grinned and shrugged. "Hey, anything for Irene's granddaughter." He gave Mel a quick hug. "You take care, sweetie."

"You, too. Give my love to Chris."

"I will." Kissing her cheek, he added, "And call us some time when you _don't_ have a crime to solve. We'd love to have you up to the cabin for a weekend."

"That'd be nice." Mel smiled and nodded. "Thanks again, David."

"No problem." He grinned and shook hands with Cole before returning his attention to brushing the rest of the tangles out of Betty's mane. Glancing after the retreating pair for a moment, he smiled, deciding that Mel's taste in men was _definitely_ improving.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"I did not find him that strange, Mel," Cole noted quietly as she drove them back to the Watchfire. "I've met _far_ stranger humans." He paused. "Although... he was looking at me... the way Jess used to."

Mel grinned, deciding that there was no need to explain to Cole that it was not only many human females who found him attractive. She wondered what he would make of that, but decided that it really was a discussion for another time. 

She settled for a reassuring, "I wouldn't worry too much about it, Cole."

He nodded faintly. "The fugitives are definitely involved, Mel."

She turned her head, startled. "Really? You sure?"

He nodded. "If these creatures are not smart enough to learn such tasks in only a month, then this dog's brain must have been modified in some fashion. It would explain its other behaviors as well."

"_Other_ behaviors?" Mel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It has behaved very aggressively towards one of the thieves on more than one occasion. David said that Pomeranians are gentle creatures. At the museum, it bit one thief through a leather glove hard enough to make him bleed quite heavily."

"And the fugitives could mess with a dog's brain in a way that would make it brighter, stronger, and more aggressive?" Mel guessed, not particularly surprised.

Cole nodded. "Vardians work extensively in gene therapy, but they are not always fully successful." His expression pained, he added, "By attempting to make one stronger or smarter, they may accidentally make him _much_ more aggressive. Homicidal, even, Mel."

"Rhee?" Mel whispered, reaching across the car and gently touching his cheek.

Cole nodded faintly, leaning his face into the comforting touch. "Some members of Varda's warrior caste were subjected to gene therapy to make them stronger. Unfortunately, in cases such as that of Rhee, they also became so aggressive that they started to enjoyed killing."

"And you think that's what's going on with this dog?" Mel asked after a few minutes of silence. "Why a Pomeranian, though, Cole? Why not something bigger and stronger to begin with?"

"The combination of its size and intelligence may have made it a desirable subject." Cole shrugged. "It may not be the only creature they have been experimenting on."

"But it's the only one that's been reported missing," Mel pointed.  

Cole nodded. "Perhaps they could find other types of dogs in other ways," he ventured. "Maybe... maybe it was just a coincidence, an opportunity that presented itself."

Mel shrugged and nodded. "Could be. I guess anything's possible."

"Yes, Mel," Cole agreed. "If you had told me four months ago that I would be here like this now, I would not have believed it. But you are right. Anything is possible."

***

"I am going to strangle that damned mutt if he ever so much as _looks_ at me in the future, Zin!" Lana snarled, stalking into his office and brandishing a heavily-bandaged hand at him. "What if he _gave _me something? I _know_ he hasn't had all his shots yet!"

"He bit you again?" Zin asked, frowning in disgust and putting down the report he had been perusing. This was getting out of hand.

Lana folded her arms over her chest, her expression bitter. "_Eight_ stitches and a rabies shot, Zin!" Unfolding her arms, she placed them on the desk, leaning towards him and hissing, "I've come out of sexual encounters with members of the _warrior-caste_ needing fewer stitches than that, Zin..."

Cursing, he hit his intercom. "Get Meterand in here!" he ordered. "Can I offer you a drink, Lana?" he sighed.

"Sir, I thought you would never ask," Lana murmured, walking over to the liquor cabinet and pouring herself and Zin each a glass of scotch. Considering for a moment, she poured several more shots into her glass before returning to his desk with them.

They sat in companionable silence for ten minutes, until they were disturbed by a knock at the door.

"Enter," Zin called. The door was opened and Meterand walked in, trotting over to Zin's desk. Growling once at Lana, he looked up at Zin who promptly picked him up by the scruff of the neck and demanded, "_What is your **problem**?_" 

"He's an unstable mutation, _that's_ what his problem is," Lana muttered, shaking her head. "I told you, Zin, his DNA is playing hell with his host's DNA."

"That doesn't explain to me why you needed several stitches this afternoon, Lana," Zin pointed out gently. "Care to be more specific?"

"I would _love_ to be more specific, Zin. Problem is that I _can't_ because our geneticists haven't the first clue what's happening to him or why."

Zin sighed in frustration. "Give them a deadline," he ordered. "And make sure that they are sufficiently horrified of you to be able to meet it." That would smooth some of her ruffled feathers, too, he knew.

Lana smiled faintly. "Yes, sir."

"In the meantime, recommendations?"

"A muzzle and a choke-chain?" she suggested, shrugging.

"Not funny, Lana," he sighed.

"I _wasn't_ joking, Zin." She glared down at Meterand. "Your favorite little lap dog is starting to irritate me in no small way..."

"Hmm, well... I'll take your recommendation under advisement," Zin promised. "You would do well to think about it yourself, Meterand," he added grimly. "Lana, show Meterand out, will you?"

"Can I go for a field-goal with him instead?"

"I'm not even going to dignify that one," Zin told her, shaking his head and pointing towards the door.

Shrugging, Lana walked to the door and opened it. "Don't let your tail get caught when I close the door, Meterand," she advised as he half-ran from the office. Shaking her head, she closed the door again. "This can not continue, Zin," she sighed, draining her glass and pouring herself another. "He is not _just_ becoming increasingly aggressive. He is becoming increasingly rash and careless."

"Maybe I should just take you off this detail?" Zin suggested gently. "It'll sooth Meterand's temper, I'm sure."

Lana sighed and closed her eyes. She would have _loved_ to get off the detail. Unfortunately, there were other considerations. "You have another person working for you who can come close to controlling him?" she asked quietly.

"You know I don't," Zin sighed.

"Then I don't see where removing me from the detail is an option, not until we find a way to get that ankle-biter under control."

Zin sighed and nodded. "You're right, Lana, of course." Smiling faintly, he added, "You usually are."

Lana flushed and bowed her head, not answering.

"What about some sort of tranquilizer for Meterand? Something to take the edge off? It can't be easy for him. He's been stuck in that body for months now."

Lana shook her head. "I've already discussed that with the doctors. Any tranquilizer strong enough to substantially modify his temperament would also grossly impair his motor skills. He'd blow himself up the first time he tried to lay a micro-charge." 

"Not an option," Zin agreed, nodding. "Neurodebilitator?" 

She sighed and shook her head again. "Too dangerous. He wouldn't be able to take any initiative on his own. We'd also have the same problems with impaired coordination."

"I've seen people under those things who could function just fine," he pointed out.

"Yeah, likewise. The problem is one of scale and neurochemistry. His brain's just not wired right to accept one."

"Ah." Zin rubbed his forehead, closing his eyes. "That muzzle is starting to sound better and better. He snapped at Vax yesterday."

Lana frowned. "But Meterand _likes_ Vax."

"Which is why I'm getting worried."

"We could always have all his teeth pulled out," Lana suggested. "In fact, sir, I'll volunteer myself for _that_ duty right now."

Zin chuckled and shook his head. "Come here, Lana," he ordered. When Lana had circled the desk and dropped to her knees next to his chair, he gently cupped her face in his hands. "I know you hate Meterand, Princess. I know you have _reason_ to hate him. But you can not allow your emotions to cloud your perception of this matter or to alter your behaviors. Failure lies down that road."

Lana sighed deeply, closing her eyes and leaning her face into his hands. "I _mean_ it, Zin," she whispered. "Emotion-free. I have considered all the possibilities and I can assure you that this is getting out of hand. He's going to _kill_ somebody soon."

"Meterand?" Zin scoffed. "In _that_ body?"

"In that body," Lana said firmly, opening her eyes and nodding up at him. "In that body with _that_ attitude and the strength and intelligence of a Vardian? Hell yes, Zin. He is coming unglued stuck in there and he _is_ going to kill someone before long. I'd really rather it wasn't me, if you don't mind."

"Do you think killing someone would make him feel better?"

"That you'd have to ask the psychologists." She tilted her head curiously at him. "Why?"

Zin smiled and shrugged and absently tucked an errant lock of hair behind her ear. "Oh, it's nothing. Just that a certain city councilwoman is _really_ starting to annoy me."

"Hmm... Well, in _that_ case." Lana rose and leaned across his desk, hitting the intercom and saying into the speaker, "Let's have Meterand back in here."

***

"Ah, thanks, Mar," Vic said as Maria handed him a bottle of beer. "Here's to the hottest damned partner a guy could hope for. May her fridge never be devoid of brew."

Maria made a face at him on general principle, shaking her head and clinking her bottle against his before twisting off the top.

"So what are we watching tonight?" Vic asked taking a long pull of his drink.

"Mmm..." Maria glanced thoughtfully at the shelf holding her DVDs. "X-files?" she offered, shrugging.

Vic grinned faintly. "Sure. Let's watch the episode about the dog who robbed all those banks."

She made a face at him, sniggering and shaking her head. "You just watch it, Vicky! If you're not a good boy, I'll force you to sit through 'An Affair to Remember'."

"You wouldn't!" Vic protested, laughing. "Besides, I don't think you even _own_ that one."

She shrugged, her eyes twinkling. "So I'll borrow your copy. Why _do_ you have a copy anyway?" 

"Mel gave it to me one year," he lied, rising and walking over to the DVDs. "Matrix?"

"Again with reality being all weird. Aren't the department shrinks always going on about how you're _not_ supposed to take your work home?"

Vic scoffed and plugged in the DVD. "Yeah, like _that _is going to happen. How do you _avoid_ it when they can call you back 24/7?" he demanded, frustrated.

Maria shrugged, her expression apologetic. "Speaking of which, how's Melanie?"

He sighed and shook his head, taking another long sip of beer before answering. "Pretty annoyed. I think she's getting ready to break up with me again."

"Ah, Christ, Vicky, I'm sorry." Sighing, Maria put down her drink and hugged him for a long moment. "Why? That man she lives with?" she asked, pulling away.

"Nah, Mel's not like that. It's just the usual. That thing about not being able to... _not_ take my work home."

"Ah, that one. Same reason I can't seem to get one in the first place."

"No, _that_ would be the fact that you enjoy scaring the crap out of a guy on the first date."

Maria shrugged and chuckled. "Well, how else am I going to know if they're ready for the Maria Cruz experience?" she asked reasonably.

"The 'Maria Cruz experience'? You open a theme-park?" he asked, shaking his head. "And how much are tickets?" he added, raising an eyebrow and regarding her with a hopeful grin.

Maria grabbed a throw-pillow and swatted him with it. "Putz."

"Watch the movie," he ordered.

"Hey, _Vicky_, don't forget who outranks whom," she advised. "_I_ give the orders here." Grinning, she added, "Watch the movie."

"Yes, ma'am," Vic answered, saluting and then turning his attention to the screen.

Maria watched him thoughtfully out of the corner of her eye for several minutes before quietly telling him, "She'll come back, you know."

He glanced over at her, wondering how she always seemed to know exactly what he was thinking about. Sighing, he shook his head. "Don't think so, Mar. Not this time. She's _really_ getting fed up."

"She's not a dumb woman, Vic. She'll come back. She always does."

"Last time for everything."

She bit her lower lip and pulled him into another gentle hug. "It'll work with you two eventually," she promised. "You love her enough to _make_ it work and Melanie... she loves you enough to let you try. Now, one of these times, everything is going to slide into position and--" She sighed and shook her head as Vic began sniggering.

"Hey, things 'slide into position' just fine, thanks," he laughed. "Why do you think she keeps coming back for more?"

Maria hit him with the throw pillow again. "Pendejo... I _mean_ it, though, Vic," she said when his laughter had died down. "Eventually everything is going to... _click_ into place--"

"Not sure I'm familiar with that technique. Wanna share?"

"Oh, you piece of..." Maria shook her head and reached for the pillow again.

Vic laughed and ducked as soon as she leaned in that direction. Maria grinned and shook her head, holding the pillow in her lap and returning her attention, or at least the appearance of attention, to the movie. She had him laughing and feeling happy again. Mission accomplished for now.

She sighed and shook her head as the phone rang. Muting the TV, she answered, "This is Cruz." She listened for a moment, frowning. "Oh, _come on_. That is not even _slightly_ amusing, Ramirez! After the day I've had I do _not_... You're sure? Yeah, okay. Yeah. Yeah. Thanks..."

Vic watched curiously as Maria hung up, muttering a string of expletives in at least three languages. And those were just the ones that he could identify. 

"Hey, what's going on?" he asked gently.

"You know the bank-robbing dog?"

Vic sighed. "What'd it do? Hit another bank or finally make the paper?"

Maria shook her head. "It _killed_ someone."

"Victim tripped over it, right?" Vic asked, grinning and shaking his head. "I think that's the leading cause of Pomeranian-related..." He trailed off, staring at the disgruntled woman. His eyes widened faintly. "You aren't kidding, are you, Mar?" he whispered.

"Trust me, Vicky, I wish I was." She sighed and rose, retrieving her car-keys. "Come on. We've got a scene to process..."

"Mar? How does a Pom kill a guy?"

"Woman," she corrected him absently. "Councilwoman Elders. And, uh, it... uh, apparently... tore her throat out..."

"Oh, come on!" he protested. "There is no way in hell that a dog that size could do that. It _had_ to have been a coyote or a rabid stray, something like that."

"Not according to the security-camera footage," Maria sighed, shaking her head. "Sorry."

"Isn't this animal-control's department?" Vic muttered in disgust, rising and retrieving his coat.

"You _would_ think so." Maria shrugged. "They're out looking for it now. Damned trained circus-mutt..."

Vic sighed and nodded in agreement. "Tell me about it. You know, Mar, this is why _I_ am a cat person."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Yeah, thanks," Maria sighed into her cell-phone before returning it to her pocket. She walked over to where Vic was sitting with a member of animal-control who had lost his dinner on seeing the body.

"Small sips," Vic directed gently, handing him a bottle of water.

"Sorry, man... I'm not usually this--"

"Hey, I understand," Vic assured him. "Trust me, I did the same with my first DB... You're okay."

He gave a shaky nod. "Thanks, man."

"No problem. You stay put here for a minute," Vic added, seeing Maria. "I'll be right back." Sighing faintly, he rose and joined her. "What's up?"

"Just got off the phone with a vet. Fifth I've talked to, actually, and all of them agree on one point. There is no way in hell that a Pomeranian has the jaw-strength to tear a person's throat out..."

"Of course there isn't," Vic sighed. "When have any of our cases been that easy in the past few months?"

She sighed and shook her head. "This is... _very strange_, Vicky."

"You think?" He sighed and shook his head. "What the hell is going on here, Mar?"

"Wish I knew," she sighed, shaking her head. "I'm at a loss here. All I know is that the common consensus is that there's no way that a Pomeranian could have killed this woman."

He sighed and nodded. "Only one _did_..."

"What's that leave?"

"No clue." Vic sighed. "Damn it, Mar, what the hell is going on here?"

She shrugged. "Has to be a hidden camera around here somewhere..."

"Look, Mar, whatever the vets may be saying, we _know_ that a Pomeranian did this."

She nodded faintly. "So what's that leave?"

"Wish I knew." Vic sighed again. "Animal control is pretty unwilling to even _try_ to take the thing alive at this point. They're not going to let one of their people get hurt over this."

"This I can understand. But I don't know where we go from there, either," she admitted. "I mean... who in their right mind would... it makes no sense."

"None at all," he agreed, sighing. "You think someone trained it to be able to do this?"

"Why not. The thing got trained to rob banks. How much of a stretch is cold-blooded murder?" 

"Why do I feel like doing a Rod Serling impression here, Mar?"

"Because I already have dibs on the X-Files jokes?"

Vic chuckled and shook his head. "That must be it," he agreed. 

"Mulder, look! Over there!" Maria said in a stage-whisper. "_It's Queg-Queg!_" 

Grinning and trying not to laugh, Vic did his best Mulder impersonation, "Damn it, Scully, Queg-Queg's been dead for three seasons! What will it take to make you _believe_?" he demanded.

A pair of passing animal-control officers regarded the two with a wary combination of uncertainty and disgust for a moment before walking on.   

"And they say cops have a weird sense of humor," Maria murmured, shaking her head. "Go home and get some sleep, partner. I've got it from here."

"You sure?" he asked.

"Yeah, it won't be much more than another hour. Go home. You look like you could use the sleep."

"Thanks, Mar." Vic nodded and patted her arm. "See you bright and early tomorrow." 

"Early, at least," she agreed, nodding and watching him walk off. Losing sleep over Melanie again, she decided, nodding to herself. Sighing and shaking her head, she turned as an officer tried to get her attention. "What have we got?"

***

"Morning, Mel," Jess called absently without looking up from the newspaper she was reading.

Mel frowned faintly at that, shaking her head and stepping behind the bar. "Tribune must be a real page-turner this morning," she observed.

"It is," Jess told her, looking over the paper with wide eyes. "Have you _seen_ this, Mel?"

"Not yet, no. Why?"

"This story looks like it belongs in the Weekly World News! There's a little Pomeranian puppy--"

"The one who robs banks, yeah." Mel nodded absently. "Old news, Jess."

"_Robs banks_?" Jess repeated incredulously, staring at her.

Mel winced internally and forced a cheerfully innocent expression. "Did I say that?" she asked, turning around and pretending to be busy. 

"I didn't know it had done that, too. Story didn't say. Guess Vic must have told you that bit." 

"Uh... must have," Mel agreed, nodding. It took her still sleep-clouded brain a few minutes longer to process the rest of Jess' words. "Done that, _too_," she repeated quietly, shaking her head. She turned around slowly, trying to act casually when her mind was screaming at her at the top of its lungs. "What else has it done, Jess?" she asked offhandedly. 

"It killed someone last night!" Jess announced, handing Mel the paper. "Look. There's a picture of Vic and that partner of his, too."

Sure enough, the main photo accompanying the story showed a picture of a parking garage covered in crime-scene tape and crawling with police. Vic and his partner were clearly visible in one corner, talking with their heads together.

"It killed someone?" Mel repeated, reading the headline but not really able to make sense of it. _Dog kills local politician_, it announced blandly. You had to dig in the article to even find out what _kind_ of dog. Whoever had handled the placement and writing of that story had _really_ dropped the ball. "What the hell is this doing buried in the middle of the paper?" she asked, more to herself than Jess.

"They were probably scared that people at the newsstands would mistake it for a tabloid," Jess said blithely, shrugging. "Ooh, or maybe they were bribed to cover it up!" she suggested, nodding eagerly as she tied on her bar-apron. "Yeah, that must be it!" she enthused, warming up to the theory.

"Bribed? Who'd bribe a newspaper to bury a story like this, Jess? PETA?" She shook her head. "It's just a dog-mauling. They happen." 

Except that some nagging part of her mind insisted that things like this did _not_ just _happen_, not when there were fugitives involved. Besides, Pomeranians were not exactly up there on the list of dangerous dog-breeds.

"Can't recall the last time I heard about a Pomeranian mauling someone," Jess said, neatly echoing Mel's thoughts. "Besides, if it's _just_ some rabid animal, how come there're so many homicide cops in that picture? Wouldn't animal-control be handling it?" she asked reasonably.

"Yeah, guess you could have something there." Mel nodded slowly. 

"You reckon it's dangerous to go out after dark?" Jess asked, shifting uneasily. "I mean, this was pretty close to here..."

"I'll have Cole drive you home tonight if you want," Mel offered gently, sensing Jess' genuine discomfort. "But something tells me that some yappy little fuzz-ball is no match at all for Miss Jessica Brown."

Jess chuckled and nodded. "You're right, Mel. Sorry."

"I'll have Cole drive you home tonight," she repeated gently. "I'll go ask him now."

"He awake?" Jess asked casually.

Mel bit her lower lip. "I wouldn't know. _His_ bedroom door is still closed." 

"If you say so, Mel," Jess chuckled as she walked towards the stairs. "But don't wake him on my account. Unless you have other plans for him once you do!" she called as Mel vanished up the stairs, laughing and shaking her head. Poor Mel, so easy to tease...

"Other plans," Mel muttered, shaking her head as she stomped up the stairs. "How many times do I have to tell her--"

"Mel? Who are you talking to?" Cole asked, leaning out of the war-room door.

"No one, Cole. Have you seen this morning's paper?" she asked quickly before he could request a further explanation of the strange human custom of talking to one's self.

"Not yet, Mel. Was there another break-in?" he asked, frowning.

"No." Mel held up the newspaper. "This time, it was a murder..."

Cole frowned and took the paper, staring at the article and pictures accompanying it. "Mel?"

"Yeah, Cole?"

"Is your friend David really an expert on these creatures?"

Mel nodded. "Yeah, he is. This is... it's not natural, Cole. There's no way in hell a Pomeranian should be able to rip a person's throat out."

Cole nodded faintly. "We should speak to him again."

"Yeah, good idea," Mel agreed, going to retrieve her car keys. "Will you drive Jess home tonight?"

"Okay, Mel," he agreed easily. 

"_And_?" she asked firmly.

"And I will remember what you have taught me and forget what Nestov has taught me," he recited gravely, his eyes laughing down at her.

Mel ignored his amusement. "Thank you. Come on."

***

"You know, it's funny, but I was just talking to a man the other day who wanted to know the exact same thing," David remarked absently as Detectives Bruno and Cruz followed him through the kennel.

"Really?" Maria asked, glancing at Vic.

He shrugged. "You wouldn't happen to remember this man's name, do you, Mister Anderson?" 

"Um... Cole something, I think... I'd have to ask Mel."

"Mel?" Vic repeated, blinking in surprise.

"Friend of mine. Friend of Cole's."

"Of course she is," Vic muttered, sighing. "Now what did this Cole want to know, exactly?" he asked, ignoring the quizzical look Maria was giving him.

"Well, he mostly seemed interested in what kind of tricks they could do, what kind of temperament they have, things like that... but he did ask how hard they could bite and how much damage they could do." He shrugged. "Strange sort of conversation, really..."

"How so?" Maria asked.

"Said it was for some project or thing that he was working on. Something about a stolen dog, only... didn't ask that many questions about who would steal a dog or why once I told him that I couldn't see why anyone would want to grab an A.K.C. registered one."

Vic glanced down at Maria who nodded faintly and fell back a step, fishing out her cell-phone and dialing. "Yeah, this is Cruz," she said as Vic and David kept talking. "I'm looking for a stolen property report that would have been issued... oh, in the past six months, for a dog. Pomeranian, A.K.C. registered. Thanks." She hung up and rejoined them.

"Seemed harmless enough," David was telling Vic. "Bet just _adored_ him and she's a fantastic judge of character. Didn't seem all there," he added, shrugging. "Was looking around like he'd never seen a dog in his life, and was horrified when Bet started licking him. Wanted to know why she was 'tasting' him."

"Yup, that sounds like Mel's nut-job of a roommate, all right," Vic sighed, shaking his head.

"You know Mel Porter?" David asked, surprised. "You should have said so. I'd have given you the deluxe tour," he chuckled, shaking his head.

"How do you know Mel exactly?" Vic asked. "If you don't mind my asking?"

"Knew her grandparents. Good people, those two. _All_ the dogs absolutely loved them." He looked up in surprise. "Well, speak of the devil!"

Vic turned to follow the direction of his gaze, not even a little surprised to see Mel, with Cole in tow _of course_, approaching them. Her slightly panicked look on seeing them there was not lost on him either.

"Morning, Mel," Vic greeted her, ignoring Cole who immediately became absorbed with the Pom that David was holding.

"Hello, Vic," Cole greeted him absently. "Hello, Detective Cruz. Hello again, David."

"Bet really does love you, doesn't she?" David asked with a smile. "We might hook you up with a puppy after all, Cole."

"Mel," Cole began, smiling at David's words. 

Mel sighed and shook her head. "_Maybe_, Cole."

"Okay, Mel," he agreed cheerfully, nodding happily.

"What is _he_ doing here?" Vic whispered to Mel, sighing.

Mel shook her head and pointed to where Cole and David were both lavishing a _very_ happy Pomeranian with attention. "In case it was lost on you, Cole's interested in Pomeranians." 

"So David said," Vic agreed, nodding. "Are they sweet, do they do tricks, can their bite be _fatal_..."

"Oh, Vic," Mel protested, shaking her head. "He never asked anything of the sort. He just wanted to know if they _did_ bite."

"So, he was not, for instance, interested in one's potential to say... rip the throat out of a politician?" Vic asked.

"Vic!" Mel protested, shaking her head. "Come _on_..."

"Vic, take a smoking break," Maria suggested quietly. 

"I don't smoke."  
"Then take a fresh-air break, Detective Bruno!" she ordered firmly, pointing towards the door. As Vic stalked off, she glanced at Mel. "Sorry about him. Not sleeping much lately..."

"Yeah, so I'd gathered," Mel agreed, sighing softly. 

Maria hesitated for a moment before contributing, "He worries about you, you know."

"He doesn't have to," Mel told her firmly. "And whatever he has told you about Cole is..." She shook her head. "Forget it," she sighed, turning.

"Hey," Maria called, catching her arm. When Mel turned, staring at her with wide eyes, she said softly, "Don't you dare hurt him."

Mel blinked in surprise, nodding once. "I... I wouldn't. He's... he's a _really_ great guy."

"Just so we're both clear on that." Releasing her gentle hold on Mel's arm, Maria turned and followed Vic. "Feeling less like ripping his head off now?" she asked gently as she joined him.

Vic shook his head in frustration. "What is it _with_ him?" he demanded.

"You'd probably have to ask Melanie that. But I'd do it in a less judgmental way if I were you." 

Vic sighed deeply. "I just made a huge ass of myself, didn't I, Mar?"

"Yeah. You did."

"Why do I always do that?" he muttered, rubbing his forehead.

"It's called trying too hard. Look, we have the information we need. We should just go, okay? I don't think Betty's fan club in there is going to miss us."

"Yeah." He sighed and nodded, following her to the car. "Let's go."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Good doggy," Lana murmured over breakfast, leafing through the crime-scene and autopsy photos that had been brought to her. "_Very_ good doggy..."

Zin chuckled and shook his head, telekinetically pouring himself another glass of orange juice as he crunched a piece of bacon. Yawning, he tightened the belt on his bathrobe before leaning across the table to retrieve the salt-shaker. Owing to the events of the night before and everything that remained to be done as a result, breakfast was an early one. It was not even five o'clock yet and Zin had not had time to dress. Lana was, of course, already immaculately groomed and attired. She never left her bedroom without looking impeccable, believing that it added to her general air of menace and professionalism.  

Not that Zin could find a thing menacing about an adolescent girl who had been a member of his household since her eighth year of life and was currently wearing a dreamy smile while repeating variants of the phrase 'good dog' over and over between bites of her egg-white omelet. He could tell that she was already planning Meterand's next 'assignment' even as she savored the success of this one. 

"Going to share, child?" he inquired lightly.

Lana glanced up in surprise, looking abashed as she handed the pictures across the table. 

"Performed with the sort of consummate skill one comes to expect from a member of the warrior-cast," she told him. "Admirable efficiency." 

"Looks fairly sloppy to me," Zin remarked, giving the photos a cursory glance.

Lana swallowed and then spoke. "Not at all. Most of the damage you see there is post-mortem. Meterand went for her carotid artery. She bled out in seconds."

"Then he tore her up on general principle?" Zin asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Seems to have, yes." Lana nodded shortly. "Perhaps that will satisfy him for a few days."

"Or _perhaps_ you were not mistaken about his increasing lack of anything resembling sanity..."

"He continues to obey you. I see no cause for concern as long as this remains the case."

Zin blinked, startled. "I don't believe you."

"No?" Lana asked, affecting disinterest and reaching for a piece of French toast. 

"No, Lana, I do not," he said firmly. "What are you up to?"

"Me?" She stared up at him, her eyes wide. "Not a thing. I simply think that if he becomes _too_... difficult that the Animal Control, the Chicago PD, or the Tracker himself will solve our problem for us."

"That would give you great satisfaction, wouldn't it?" Zin asked.

"Meterand getting shot by the human authorities? Yes." Lana nodded unabashedly. "Although, from a practical standpoint, Collection by that Cirronian fanatic costs us less," she added, shrugging.

"Mmm, he may be decimating our workforce, but you're right. As usual," he added, his eyes laughing at her. "As long as they are only Collected, they can not truly be said to be lost to us. We may still retrieve them."

"Indeed so," Lana agreed mildly, frowning down at her French toast. "Your chef is a lazy cur, Zin. _I_ could do better than this heavily sedated and fitted out with a Neurodebilitator..." She pushed her plate aside, shaking her head in disgust.

"So have him replaced," Zin suggested. "There has to be at least _one_ fugitive who can prepare human cuisine. Hell, get a human."

"I won't have you bringing humans into your household, Zin," Lana said flatly, shaking her head. "Don't make me sick. You want me eating food prepared by a talking _monkey_?" she scoffed.

"Then find an acceptable fugitive. Hell, train one yourself if you have to..." Zin shook his head. "Better still, have a nice sit-down with my current chef and explain to him that he is not meeting minimum standards..." He smiled faintly.

"I may just do that," Lana agreed, smiling at him.

"Good girl. Just don't scare him _too_ badly."

"Ruin all my fun," she muttered, tossing a napkin at him and trying to look annoyed.

Zin laughed and shook his head. "Your plans for Meterand, dear?" he prompted.

"Business at the breakfast table, Zin?" she asked, affecting shock.

"Someone's in a playful mood this morning," he observed, smiling at her.

"Well, _someone_ has just seen one of your political enemies pay for her intractable stubbornness." Lana smiled faintly. "Would you prefer if I act like some human, grumpy just because it's early?" Her smile widening, she added, "Or like your _wife_? Grumpy just... _because_?"  

Zin chuckled and shook his head. "Funny, my dear. But if Meterand were here to hear you..."

"He'd probably use my leg as a toilet, I know." Lana shook her head. "Or add a fresh set of teeth-marks to my ankle. I _still_ say we should have him neutered..."

"I told you _both_," Zin reminded her, shaking his head. "Next time he bites you, we _will_."

"Good." Lana smiled and picked up the autopsy report. Her smile faded slightly as she and she handed it to Zin. "Those Detectives again..."

He shrugged. "Well, they have been investigating the bank robberies..."

"So they know they're connected. I thought it would take them longer." Lana shook her head, looking faintly troubled.

"Lana, with the state that the local police are in over Meterand's recent activities, those two would probably be sent to investigate if a Pomeranian gave birth in the city limits..."

"I suppose so," she agreed, frowning.

"You've all been careful not to let your faces be seen during the bank jobs, right?" Zin asked abruptly. "No fingerprints? Wearing your gloves and masks?"

"We have," Lana assured him, gratified by his obvious concern.

"How's the hand? Hurting?"

"Nothing I can't handle."

"_Lana..._"

She bowed her head immediately and quietly confessed, "It's still quite painful, sir."

"Here, let's see," Zin commanded, snapping his fingers at her hands.

Lana obediently unwrapped her hand and extended it across the table to Zin. 

"Looks like some of these may be infected," he announced after a few moments of examination, sighing.

"Hardly surprising given what I've seen dogs on this planet eat..."

Zin ignored the comment. "Get yourself to Doctor Neko again, Lana," he directed, rising. "And then meet me in my office so we can discuss Meterand's next assignment."

"Yes, sir." Lana rose, bowed sharply, then turned on her heel and left.

*** 

Reading witness statement after witness statement, all so similar that they could have come from the same witness, Vic found himself half-dozing at his desk. His lethargy was interrupted by a shout from Maria.

"Drugs!"

He looked up wearily. "The no-doze is in the file cabinet..."

"I was talking about the dog, Vicky," she clarified.

"Drugs? The dog's on drugs?" he asked, rising and helping _himself_ to a few caffeine pills. He obviously needed one because he could not just have heard his partner say what he thought he had.

"Sure. Why not?" Maria shrugged, shoving on the desk and sending her chair rolling across the office, nearly colliding with her too-slow partner. Ignoring his mumbled protest, she pulled open the filing cabinet and started extracting files. "Think about it. We have easily half a dozen cases here where we have UNSUBS displaying what witnesses or the ME describe as 'superhuman strength', right? So how many drugs can do that?"

"Lots?" he ventured, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

"Exactly. So what if the circus-mutt's on something like that? Would explain how he could tear a woman's throat out."

"Good point."

Maria paused, considering for a moment before saying, "Close the door."

Raising his eyebrows, Vic did as directed. "What's up, Mar?"

"PCP, something like that increases strength, aggression, pain tolerance... all the usual suspects. Everything we've seen in this thing, yeah?"

"Yeah." He nodded and sat down. "So?"

"So, a trained _chimp_ would be hard pressed to pull off some of the thing's this dog's been trained to do. Someone's been tweaking its _intelligence_, too," she said softly. 

"You think?"

"Don't you?"

"Drugs don't increase intelligence, Mar," he began uneasily. "In fact, most _kill_ brain-cells."

"So maybe it's experimental. Because _something_ is going on here. The things this dog is doing, Vicky? Not natural." 

"No," he agreed quietly. "They aren't. But who would want to do something like that?"

"Develop a drug that increases intelligence? Who _wouldn't_?" She shook her head. "I mean, it's a _nice_ system except the part where it seems to have made the thing just a tad homicidal..."

"Now where have we seen otherwise normal, sane, laid-back individuals become faster, stronger, and unexpectedly lethal?" Vic asked rhetorically. 

"Now _that_ is the $64,000 question, isn't it?" Maria asked, dropping the files onto their desk. "Let's starts looking for the connection."

***

Jess was leaning on the bar, talking to Mel in the empty barroom. "So he says... _oh, bloody 'ell!_"

Mel frowned, trying to figure that out until she realized that Jess' attention was not even remotely on her story anymore. She turned to follow the shocked-looking girl's gaze and matched it with a horrified expression of her own. Cole had returned from his attempt to track down the Pomeranian.

Cole had returned from his attempt to track down the Pomeranian with his shirt shredded and bloodied and his face bearing a slightly dazed look.

"Oh, my God!" she gasped, scuttling to his side. "Cole! Are you okay? Are you in pain?" 

She was berating herself for asking such a stupid question when Cole answered absently, "I don't think so, Mel," and wandered past her, towards the stairs.

Jess hurried out from behind the bar. "Cole! What happened?"

"I upset a Pomeranian, Jess. I think I've changed my mind about having one for a  pet, Mel," he added, shaking his head and vanishing up the stairs.

"Should I call an ambulance?" Jess asked quietly as the two stunned women stared after him.

_Yes, let's bring the nice alien to the hospital where the nice men in the white coats can alien-autopsy him,_ Mel thought dazedly. Like getting mauled by a Pomeranian was not bad enough. Was that adding insult to injury or injury to insult, she wondered. 

"Uh... let me go... check on him," she suggested. "I'll... see if he needs a hospital..."

"Was that blood all his?" Jess whispered, staring uncertainly at Mel.

"Uh..." Mel, who was not even sure if Cole's blood was red, shrugged. "I... I'm sure it must... well, I mean... Cole's not... I should go check on him," she finished lamely, racing up the stairs and locking the apartment door firmly behind her. "Cole!" she called, surprised when she did not find him in the bathroom cleaning up. She breathed a sigh of relief to find him still conscious in the war-room, but she was surprised to see him typing away as though nothing was amiss. "Cole?" she asked cautiously.

"Yes, Mel?" he asked, looking up curiously. 

Mel swallowed hard. "Is that blood... is that all yours?" she whispered.

"Yes, Mel," he answered absently. "I was wrong about the dog, Mel."

"Cole, come with me," she directed gently.

"Why, Mel?"

"Because... well, you're covered in blood Cole! _Come with me!_"

"Why, Mel?" he repeated, rising and following her into the bathroom.

"So I can... well... see how bad it is. Take your shirt off. Are you okay? Can you get it off yourself? We can cut it off if you can't."

"Yes, Mel," he said, looking perplexed as he stripped off his shirt. "You are upset, Mel?"

"That's putting it lightly, yeah!" she snapped, grabbing a clean washcloth and regarding his blood-caked chest uncertainly. He did not seem to be bleeding heavily from any injuries, but she was afraid that if she wiped away too much dried blood he might start. "That little puppy did all this to you?" she whispered, extending the washcloth only to pull it back again before it made contact.

"Yes, Mel."

"What did those people _do_ to it?" Mel demanded, still staring at his chest with wide eyes. 

"A fugitive has possessed it, Mel," Cole explained, regarding her curiously for a moment before deducing that she was upset because his skin and clothes were so dirty. Relieving her of the washcloth, he started wiping away the blood.

Not really absorbing his words, Mel watched him mop off his chest, wincing at how rough he was being with himself. "How can that not _hurt_?" she demanded finally.

He looked up in surprise. "I have already healed myself," he explained simply, shrugging. "There are no more injuries."

"You can _do _that?" she whispered, reaching for his chest with a trembling hand. True to his word, in spite of the blood, there was not a mark on him. "Oh, my God," she whispered, staring up at him with wide eyes.

He smiled gently back down at her. "I like it when you touch my chest, Mel," he announced.

Mel's eyes widened even more, which Cole would not have thought possible, and she hastily withdrew her hand. 

"_How?_" she whispered after a moment's uncomfortable silence. "How do you _do_ that?"

"I just... do," he explained, shrugging and resuming his interrupted cleaning job once it became clear that Mel was no longer interested in touching his chest. "Most Cirronians can."

"They can... heal injuries? Big ones? Because that was a _lot_ of blood..."

"The wounds were more extensive than those I normally have to heal on myself," he allowed, "But it is not very much harder. It just took longer," he explained. Finished getting the worst of the blood off of his chest, he reached for his shirt again.

"Cole!" Mel protested, grabbing it from him. "You can't put that back on."  
"Why?"

"Because it's torn to shreds? Because it's covered with blood? Did you see the look on Jess' face, Cole? You can not walk around with your clothes in this state." Shaking her head, she walked to her room and nosed through the closet until she found another men's shirt. "Here, put this one on."

"Okay, Mel." He took the shirt and pulled it on. "You are still upset," he noted. "Why?"

"Wh... Uh... I'm just... well, God, Cole, you just scared me a little walking in covered with blood like that." She gave him an uneasy smile. "You do know that I worry about you, don't you?" she asked, her smile fading slightly.

"Yes, Mel," he agreed, smiling warmly down at her. "You do worry."

"Too much sometimes, huh?" she asked, staring at her shoes. Her eyes widened as she felt Cole's fingers close around her chin and push her face up. 

"I am no longer hurt, Mel. The danger was not great. I am fine," he whispered, his expression reassuring. "You no longer have to worry, especially now that I know what I am up against."

"What _are _you up against? What did they do to it?"

"I told you, Mel, a fugitive has possessed it. Meterand, I think. It felt like Meterand," he told her. "Mel?" he asked, alarmed when she swayed on her feet. Catching gentle hold of her arms, he helped her to her bed. "Mel, are you ill?" he asked anxiously, crouching in front of her.

"Oh, no, Cole. Sorry. Just... a lot of shocks for one afternoon," she explained. "I... I didn't know that they could possess things other than humans."

"Neither did I, Mel," Cole told her. "Actually, it is somewhat surprising that they can take human hosts at all, but with the dog it is different. His life-force was... disturbed. His DNA is mutating the host's. Both have become unstable. That is why his behavior is so erratic."

"Oh," she whispered, nodding. "But you aren't hurt?"

He smiled and shook his head gently. "No longer, Mel."

"Good." She managed a shaky smile. "Now, Jess is going to have a lot of questions..."

"About the blood and my torn shirt?"

"Yeah. So we're going to tell her that I came upstairs and dressed the injuries to your chest, that they only _looked_ serious." 

"They _did_ only look serious," he pointed out with a faint grin. "And you _have_ dressed my chest."

Mel smiled. "Good, so it's not even a lie. Come on, Cole. We should go reassure Jess before she calls an ambulance." _Or Vic_.

"Okay, Mel," he agreed, rising and following her down the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

"Another one bites the dust," Maria announced, dropping a file on Vic's desk.

Vic cursed softly, leafing through the file. "Who was it?"  
"Another city councilman," Maria told him, raising an eyebrow.

"You have got to be sh--" Vic shook his head. "That can _not_ be a coincidence."

"Same parking garage, too," Maria observed. "I think the others on the Council are starting to get the message."

"The message being?"

"Be afraid. Be _very_ foquin afraid." Maria shook her head in disgust, sitting down. 

"Why didn't you call me?" he asked abruptly, frowning up at her.

"Johansen processed the scene," she informed him in a tight voice.

"And the moron didn't think to call us?" Vic demanded with a disgusted look of his own.

"Well, he seemed to think that it was a _stabbing_." Maria made a face. "Miguel called me when he got a look at the body. It's definitely the same dog."

"He sure?"

"Teeth marks match," Maria told him, nodding and pouring herself a cup of coffee. "I hope you don't mind that I ripped Johansen a new one without you..."

"Damn, I _missed_ it?" Vic asked, chuckling. "How long is the poor man going to be in therapy?"

"For a very long time, I hope," Maria said, scowling. "_Kelohe_..."

Vic raised an eyebrow. "Don't think I've heard that one from you before. Not Spanish, is it?"  

"Polynesian. New hobby."

"You're teaching yourself _another_ language? Damn, woman, we need to find you a _man_..."

"What would I do with one of those?" she asked, grinning. "Besides, Vicky, you're all the man one woman can handle..."

He laughed and shook his head. "If I didn't know you better, Cruz, I'd think you were hitting on me."

"How do you know I'm _not_?" she purred. At his startled look, she winked. "Just trying to keep you on your toes..." she assured him gently.

Vic scratched his nose and ducked his head. "Always keep 'em guessing?" he asked, embarrassed to have fallen for it.

"Always." Maria nodded gravely. "Look, Vicky, can I ask you a huge favor?"

"Sure. Unless it involves that prick Johansen in any way shape or form." 

"_Madre de Dios_, he knows me well..." she murmured into her coffee cup. Looking up, she batted her eyelashes and requested, "Pretty please?"

"Oh, come on, Mar!" he protested. "Anything but that!"

She sighed. "Look, _one_ of us has to debrief him and I'm honestly not sure I'm up to it today. He's a racist, he's a misogynist, he's a _moron_, and after he dropped the ball on this last killing, I am _very_ seriously tempted to rip off his... _juevos_ if he gives me even one more provocation..." 

Vic nodded slowly. She was right on all counts, as usual. And judging from the look on her face, she was serious about being ready to do Johansen some serious bodily harm. "Then I guess I'd better be the one to talk to him." 

"_Thank you_," she said, reaching across the desk and covering his hands with hers. 

"Hey, that's what partners are for, yeah?" Vic asked, grinning as he freed his hands. "I think I can handle ten minutes of his presence if it keeps you from getting thrown in jail for assaulting a cop."

She smiled faintly. "I appreciate it."

"So, while I'm putting up with that jerk--"

"Pendejo," she corrected him with a smile.

Vic grinned and winked. "While I'm putting up with the pendejo Johansen, you're going to check out the scene for all the evidence he no doubt missed, right?"

"That was the plan," she agreed.

"Why do you always get the easy jobs?" Vic chuckled. 

"No clue. Can't possibly be my charm, 'cause I've got none." Winking, she rose and grabbed her jacket. "I'm going to stop by the morgue first. Meet you at the scene?"

"Sounds good," Vic agreed.

***

Lana hung up the phone with a disgusted snort, shaking her head. "Those two are worthy adversaries, Zin," she announced. 

"They've connected the latest death back to Meterand?" he sighed.

She nodded faintly. "Sheer dumb luck this time, actually. Another Detective took the call and completely failed to make the connection."

"So what happened?"

"The medical examiner was actually in possession of half a brain." Lana closed her eyes and shook her head in irritation. "Mind if I take Meterand for another walk?" 

"Killing the medical examiner is going to raise a lot of questions," Zin pointed out, shaking his head faintly. He leaned forward and picked up a potted plant from her desk, one of many in the office. All were dying. "Still no luck getting them to take to this planet's atmosphere?"

She shook her head faintly. "Not yet. And killing the ME is going to raise far fewer questions than will be raised if he starts putting his head together with those human Detectives. The female's already connected Meterand to the fugitives, even if she _does_ think it's drugs. Eventually, these detailed autopsies she's been requesting are going to start showing things they should not." She regarded him significantly.

"_Especially_ if Meterand gets taken," Zin sighed, nodding. That was beyond dispute. Neko had already informed them that, on the inside at least, he was no longer anything even remotely resembling a dog.

"Face the facts. Two Councilpeople in a week? Questions have already _been_ raised, Zin."

"This is spinning out of control," he sighed, nodding. He glanced at the door which obediently shut itself. "Recommendations?"

Lana hesitated, staring at her hands in her lap. One was still heavily bandaged. 

"Lana, child," Zin sighed, rising and circling the desk. He sat down on the desk before her, extending one hand. She obediently placed the bandaged hand in his, not looking up at him. "I want you to tell me what you think should be done about Meterand," he told her gently.

She closed her eyes. "He... his host is no longer the dominant genetic force. He can grow to the size of a German Shepard at will, take an almost Vardian form. If he is... _seen_--"

"Then they will know." Zin sighed and began carefully unwrapping the bandage.

She nodded faintly. "Any vet, even most human physicians... if he were taken, dead _or_ alive, they _would_ know." She looked down as Zin finished stripping away the bandage on her hand. "The swelling's down," she told him. "The infection was minor. Neko's given me some antibiotics."

Zin nodded and examined the neat row of stitches thoughtfully. "He does good work."

"He's a good man, one of your most loyal subordinates." 

"Has he made any progress on transferring Meterand to a human host?"

"Not yet. He... believes that his genetics are simply too unstable to risk it."

"Yet _you_ say that it is no longer tenable for Meterand to remain in that body."

"It is not," she averred. "Even if his mind remains intact, his host will soon die. That is beyond dispute."

"What does that leave?" Zin sighed, picking up the bandage and rewrapping her hand.

"Collecting his life-force and placing it in a containment unit is the only option I see."

"He is among the inner circle!" Zin protested.

"Even members of the inner circle are of no use to you dead, sir," Lana murmured, bowing her head again. "In stasis, he will be safe until we can find a way to transfer him into an appropriate human host." She kept her head bowed, not looking at Zin, not daring to tell him that Neko was worried that it might _already_ be too late for Meterand. She held her silence more for Neko's sake than for her own.

"You want the ME dead first, I suppose?" Zin asked.

"Call it a last hurrah for him," Lana suggested, shrugging. "The current medical examiner is simply too intelligent and too close to that Cruz woman."

"Very well. You bring him to the morgue and I'll have a containment unit prepped."

"As you command, sir." Lana inclined her head.

"Make sure you aren't seen with him," Zin reminded her. 

"As you would have it." Lana nodded and rose. "I will remain a good distance off. Should I tell him that he's to be placed in containment?"

"Better if you don't, I think. It might be best if he were not aware of our plans. He would resist, especially you."

"I would suggest a tranquilizer. Otherwise he's likely to lash out at Neko," she murmured, inclining her head and then turning on her heel and leaving the office.

***

Doctor Miguel Ramirez looked up at the Detective curiously. "You working this with Maria and Vic, Detective... Wong?" he asked, taking another look at the badge hung on his belt. Interesting name for such an obviously Caucasian man...

"No." Cole shook his head faintly. "I am simply interested in the dog..."

"Yeah? You don't strike me as the Pomeranian type," he noted, opening the locker with the latest victim in it and pulling out the slab.

"I am not."

"Ah." Ramirez shrugged and pulled back the sheet. "Worst dog attack I've ever seen. If it weren't for the bite radius, I'd think it was a pit-bull or a wild dog." He shook his head. "But the teeth are tiny." He pulled on a pair of gloves, tossing another pair to Cole before lightly touching a small bite-wound on the throat. "This is your actual cause of death in both cases."

"It was the last wound inflicted?" Cole asked, placing his own gloved fingers against the wound. When Ramirez looked away for a moment to retrieve the chart, he took a quick energy-scan. Definitely Meterand. Oddly sloppy coming from him.

"First, actually," Ramirez answered, proffering the chart. "Strange, that. The kills were _incredibly _clean. Victims were dead in seconds. All this damage is post-mortem, like the thing went into some kind of frenzy."

Cole frowned. Bloodlust? From Meterand? That was definitely new. 

Ramirez continued, "But it can't have been _that_ frenzied because the kill _is_ so clean. I don't know... I've seen humans operate similarly, but it doesn't make sense from an animal. Their minds don't work like ours."

Cole nodded faintly. "Yes, I've seen serial killers behave in this way as well. A quick kill and then the frenzy... I have seen it many times." 

But never from Meterand. Meterand had been everything Zin looked for in a confederate: clean, calculating, methodical, unemotional and detached in his application of force...

"You folks have any new theories on why the thing's behaving like this?" Ramirez asked. 

"It might be a new form of rabies," Cole said with a noncommittal shrug. He looked up as he became aware of not one but _two_ approaching life-forces, both Vardian, one young and remarkably powerful, one oddly tainted: Meterand. "I must go now," he told the doctor. "Thank you for your time."

"No problem. Just let me know if I can do anything else for you."

"I will. Thank you." 

Cole nodded and quickly left the office. If he was to confront a fugitive, especially Meterand, it should not be in front of a human witness. His eyes darting around the hallway for the appearance of the fugitives, he saw Vic's partner before she saw him. Not that she was looking. Her nose was buried in a report and she was muttering to herself in a language that Cole did not recognize. He ducked into a broom-closet, reluctant to be seen by her again in connection with this case.

"Oh, hi, Maria," Ramirez greeted her as she entered the exam room, her nose still buried in the report. He grinned as he heard the tail-end of her tirade. Detective Johansen was going to be getting hell for weeks if she meant _half_ of what she had been muttering.

"Miguel, mi amigo," she greeted him, putting down the report long enough to give her old friend a hug. "What you got for me?"

"Another impossible dog-attack, of course. I can't believe that Johansen didn't think to call you..."

"Johansen is a pendejo."

"I'd noticed," he smirked. "Hey, that Wong guy new?"

"Wong?" she repeated, frowning and shaking her head. "Don't think I know a Wong... My precinct?"

"He didn't say."

"Ah." Maria frowned faintly. "Don't think we have any new rookies. Might be out of the ninth... they just got a new batch in."

"Don't think he was a rookie. Carried himself like a vet, said he's seen a lot of action."

"Huh." She shrugged dismissively. "Must be a transfer, then. Not giving my compadre a hard time, is he?"

"Nah. Just curious about the dog."

"Yeah?" Maria asked, raising an eyebrow. "Funny..."

"Not really. He's not the first," he noted. "I mean this is just weird. Lots of people are interested in this thing."

"True," she agreed. "Newsstand by my house sold out of the Tribune before I could get there this morning. People are eating this up."

"Can't say I blame them," Ramirez said, shrugging. "Normally you only see this kind of thing on the front page of tabloids... like that woman a few years ago who got attacked by her fur coat," he chuckled.

Maria laughed and nodded. "Yeah, I remember that. That was the issue with Bat Boy's escape from the secret government lab, wasn't it?"

"It scares me that you know this, Maria."

"Hey, a woman has to keep current on the news." Maria winked at him. "Body?"

He nodded and pulled open the locker again. "Same thing as last time. Carotid artery severed, then a frenzied attack on the corpse. Thing must have been covered in blood. Must have been hell to get its fur clean..."

"Yeah. But so far none of the groomers we've talked to have had any blood-covered Poms brought in."

"Would've made your job too easy if they _had_."

"Yeah. God forbid it be easy for a change." Maria shook her head and pulled on a pair of gloves. "Hey, this is the guy who replaced Elders, isn't he?" she asked, frowning down at the body.

"Yeah. Why?"  
"About two days after she died, he pushed through this _really_ controversial zoning ordinance. Same day he died." She frowned thoughtfully. "Elders was very strongly against the ordinance, I understand."

"Guess that rules out a hit."

"You'd think so." Maria nodded faintly. "Be different if they were on the same side politically, pissing off the same people..."

"Could as easily have been some past issue that they agreed on. People have long memories for grudges, Maria. You know that."

"Yes, I do," she agreed quietly. "The other members of the Council are scared, Miguel."

"I'd be. Three days, two bodies. They _all_ have to be wondering which of them'll be next."

"I'll bet they are, but it won't be long now. We have orders to shoot to kill. So does animal control."

"That's a first from them."

"Well, this thing is a known killer. They're not about to risk one of their own taking it alive just to have to put it down later. I think they'll rest a lot easier when this is over."

"A _lot_ of people will rest easier when this is over. Nadia's scared to let the kids play outside any more."

"I'll bet she is. Corey's only six and Paul's even younger than her."

He nodded. "Scares her. She doesn't even like going out herself any more."

"It won't be long now," she promised, praying that she was right. 

Maria looked up as the door swung open, frowning when no one appeared in the doorway. A yelp from Ramirez made her look twice and she let out a startled curse, pushing Ramirez towards the far door as a small Pomeranian half-pranced into the room.

It paused, tilting its head at her as she reached for her gun. The damned thing almost seemed to be assessing the situation.

"Out," she breathed to Ramirez, jerking her head in the direction of the door. "I've got your six."

"Maria," he began anxiously, resting one hand on her shoulder. 

"I'm right behind you," she assured him, frowning when the dog took another step forward. It almost seemed to understand her. Remembering her earlier suggestion to Vic that someone had been playing with its intelligence, she changed track. "Vas. _Muy lento_. Miras el perro _atentamente_. Caminas muy lento. Comprendas?"  

"Loud and clear," he murmured, nodding and slowly stepping backwards. He stopped dead when the dog gave a low growl. "I don't think it likes that idea."

"I don't give a damn what it likes. _Go_!" she ordered, shoving him towards the door with one hand and pulling her gun with the other. She leveled it at the dog as Ramirez scuttled from the room. "You understand ever word I say, don't you, you damned mutt?" she growled, backing towards the door.

The dog tilted its head at her and nodded. Startled by that, Maria nearly dropped her gun. As she fumbled with it, the dog lunged.

What happened next occurred too quickly for her to follow. The dog actually seemed to get bigger as it got closer, and when its paws hit her chest, she was knocked the ground hard enough to steal her breath away. She squeezed the trigger as she fell, heard a series of shots. Her head struck the edge of the slab as she fell and the everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7

** Chapter 7**

Cole had not remained hidden for long after Maria Cruz walked past. He felt the two Vardians moving in different directions and went after Meterand as the more dangerous of the two. Precious moments were lost trying to discern the identity of the other Vardian. He gave that up when he heard the sound of a weapon discharging nearby. 

Slipping into Hyperspeed, he entered the morgue in time to see Maria go down and Meterand latch on to her throat. Meterand's dun-colored coat was already covered with blood. Maria's blood, he realized as she continued bleeding heavily, spurting blood into the air in a fine arc, bleeding out quickly even in Hyperspeed. 

She was dying...

Cursing, Cole crossed the room quickly, wrenching Meterand from Maria and tossing him across the room. He knelt by the human and quickly healed the bite, noting that Meterand had latched on to a major artery. She would have been dead in seconds at the rate she was loosing blood, courtesy of Meterand's Vardian sense of efficiency. A race of killers, the Vardian warrior caste did not, for the most part, revel in it. It was a matter of necessity for them and always performed with the least possible expenditure of energy. They took great pride in killing with simple elegance.  

The mauling after they died was different, must have been a source of some sick satisfaction to the Vardian. He had, as so many members of the warrior caste had before him, finally gone insane, the kill driving him into a bloodlusting frenzy. He would elevate from here, Cole knew, surprised that Zin had allowed it to go _this_ far. The kills would become less efficient, the victims suffer more, and eventually not even Zin would be able to control Meterand.

Hyperspeed slipped as he finished healing the human Detective, still unconscious in spite of the fact that she was no longer losing blood. As Cole tried to ascertain _why_, he felt a sharp pain at the base of his skull and he was knocked to the ground. His head swimming, he struggled to his feet and flailed to try to dislodge Meterand, who seemed to have gained in size, weight, _and_ strength. 

When he _did_ manage to knock Meterand free, he saw that he had indeed grown substantially. A fluffy bundle of fur, three feet at the shoulder, he would have looked absolutely ridiculous if he had not been covered in blood and snarling savagely as he circled Cole, looking for an opening. As before, he made absolutely no effort to flee, another sign of his slipping sense of self. Goaded by the instincts of his host, he was reverting to the kind of animalistic, predatory behavior that the Vardian people had not displayed for over a hundred thousand years.

It took Cole a moment to realize that not all of the blood covering Meterand had come from himself and the human Detective who still lay unconscious at his feet. At least one of her shots had found its mark. Meterand was bleeding heavily, leaving red paw-prints on the floor as he circled. Cole could feel the Vardian's blind rage. He was beyond any sense of self-preservation. He would go for Maria first if he could, simply to revenge himself on her. If he managed to disable Cole, he would kill Maria first and then go back to finish the Cirronian. Cole was going to have to be very careful or Meterand _would_ kill her in spite of his presence.

Calling up everything he knew of Vardian psychology, he considered how to goad Meterand into slipping up, to take his attention from the human. There _had_ to be a way. Mel's words of the previous week recurred to him abruptly: _There are hundreds of different breeds out there. And those aren't even counting the mutts..._ Oh, yes. _That_ would hit a Vardian where it hurt.

"Must be very hard for you, Meterand," he noted quietly, stepping between Maria and the Vardian. "I think it would be very hard even to take a human, but being stuck inside of a _mutt_..."

Meterand let out a low growl.

"I've been studying these Pomeranians since I became aware of you. They really are lovely creatures. Your host, though, is a _very_ inferior example of the species..."

This growl was louder. 

"You must find it frustrating." Cole adopted a sympathetic expression. "Going from an adult Vardian male in his prime to such an unimposing puppy. I wonder how Etala will react to it?" 

That was all it took. Meterand lunged and locked his jaw around Cole's throat. Cole had gambled on the truth of the longstanding rumors about Zin's bodyguard and his wife and had shed his human form the moment the words were out of his mouth. If he had not, he would probably be near death by now. As it was, he was only in tremendous pain as sharp teeth locked onto the most sensitive part of the Cirronian body.

The pain had his head swimming and him on the verge of blacking out, but he was in no real danger, the majority of his circulatory fluid flowing through different channels than it did in a human body. The pain was the most intense he had ever experienced, but he did his best to ignore it, to focus on the fact that it was not simply his own life that would be forfeit if he failed to prevail against Meterand. Maria Cruz still lay helpless nearby, and if Meterand survived, there would be others. It was an effort, but he did manage to activate his Collector and slam it into Meterand's chest. 

Less than a minute had passed between his hearing the gunshots and Collecting Meterand, even if it did seem far longer. He pushed the now normal-sized Pomeranian off of his chest and crawled over to Maria, reassuring himself that she was in no real danger. He looked up at the sound of shouts and footsteps, aware that he had to flee _now_. Too weak and in too much pain to use Hyperspeed, he crawled into a nearby locker instead. Grateful that it was unoccupied, he settled down to wait, painfully forcing his body back into its human form.  

Vic's voice reached his ears. "Mar! Shit... Damn it! Make sure that thing is dead! Get a doctor in here! Mar, sweetie... come on..."

"Five more minutes?" Maria requested weakly, batting at the hands on her face and throat. She opened her eyes at the sound of a strangled sob from Vic. "Vicky?" she whispered in concern, struggling to sit.

"No, no... don't move, partner," Vic ordered, pushing her gently back into a prone position. "I need to figure out where this blood is coming from. Where'd it get you?"

Maria gasped as she realized that she was covered in blood, that the dog had locked on to her throat. She pushed her hands into her throat, trying to slow the flow of blood, muttering to herself, praying. "Santa Maria, madre de Dios. Luego por nosotros--"

"Hush, hush," Vic urged gently. He wanted to take her hands, but did not want to move them, either. He cradled her face instead. "Just hang tight. You're still alive, that means he didn't hit the carotid artery..." he soothed.

"Shit, you're right," she whispered, closing her eyes and breathing a sigh of relief.

"Here, give me room," Ramirez ordered. "An ambulance is on its way. Let me have a look at her, Vic."

Vic moved back only far enough to let Ramirez look Maria over, hovering anxiously.

"My God," Ramirez murmured, falling back and shaking his head. 

"What?" Vic demanded. "How bad is it, Miguel?"

"She's not bleeding..."

"_What?_" Vic and Maria demanded as one.

"It must all be the dog's. She had to have put three or four bullets into it."  
"Five," a police-officer who had been in the building on another case contributed quietly. Like Vic and Ramirez, he had come running when he heard the gunshots. "All five hit. She's a crack shot."

"Like I could have missed. The damned thing was right on top of me," Maria muttered, sitting up. She immediately regretted the action as the room started spinning. Cursing, she grabbed onto the nearest person for support and found herself in Vic's arms. "Must have hit my head on the way down..."

"Yeah. You have a pretty big goose-egg back here," Ramirez told her. "Don't try to stand. I think you've got a concussion." 

"I think I'm going to be sick..."

"Just breath through it," Vic urged gently, cradling her against his chest. "I've got you. You're going to be just fine..."

"If I can ever live down getting knocked out by a five pound dog..."

"Ah, smart-ass comments. Now I _know_ you're going to be fine."

"Bite me."

"If it weren't for Mel, I would."

Maria's laugh turned into a moan. 

"Shh," Vic murmured. "You're okay. Just take deep breaths and concentrate on staying conscious."

"Yeah," she sighed, not bothering to try nodding. She snuggled into his chest instead, bringing her own arms up to encircle him, clinging to that source of comfort.

"You're okay," he repeated, as much to assure himself as her. "That thing is dead, isn't it?" he asked the officer whose name he had not caught.

"Oh, yeah. Five bullets, center-mass. It didn't stand a chance." 

"Miguel?" Maria murmured.

"Yeah, Maria?" Ramirez asked anxiously, crouched next to her and Vic.

"Tell Nadia that Corey and Paul can play outside again," she murmured, looking up as a pair of paramedics hurried into the room, stopping dead at the sight of all the blood. "Relax, it's from the dog," she mumbled in disgust. "Just tell me one of you has an aspirin..."

After the Vic had followed Maria's stretcher from the room, Ramirez looked around, wondering if he should have the blood cleaned up or treat the area as a crime-scene. Of course, the case in question was most decidedly closed, he realized, staring at the dead dog. He frowned faintly as he saw traces of what looked like Day-Glo paint around its muzzle. Maria had been asking him for increasingly detailed autopsies on some of her odder cases, so he knew that she would be interested in this. Careful not to disturb the scene, he quickly collected a sample, knowing she would be interested. 

***

"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Vic asked Maria as he walked into the hospital room. She had pulled a chair up to the window and was watching the traffic go by.

"No, I should be at work. Miguel autopsy that dog yet?"

"Yeah." Vic nodded faintly. "Thing must have been on some heavy drugs. Miguel's still working that angle, but its muscle-mass was like five times what it should have been and its brain..." He paused.

"What about its brain?" she prompted.

"It... showed signs of recent growth." Vic shrugged and pulled a chair next to her. "One anomaly of many, actually. There was nothing normal about this thing. All he can figure is that it was some weird combination of drugs, radiation, and gene-therapy... Strange."

"Its brain was growing?" Maria asked, remembering her conviction while facing the dog that it had understood every word out of her mouth.

"Yeah. Miguel says that would have killed it within a week. Brain was growing, but not its skull, so it was slowly being crushed. Probably explains the violent behavior, too..." He shrugged again. "How's the head?"

"Better. How was your date?"

"It would have been better if I hadn't gotten called to a scene halfway through..."

"Ouch." Maria sighed and squeezed his shoulder. "You going to be okay?"

"Not like I haven't been okay the other four times she dumped my ass..."

"Cheer up, partner. She'll be back. She always is." Maria winked at him. 

He smiled faintly, bowing his head. "Thanks, Mar."

"For what?"

"Being there." Vic grinned at her. "So, when you get to go home?"

"Later today. Want to go out for a couple of beers to celebrate the fact that I'm not dead?"

"Sounds like a plan," he agreed, nodding. "Just not the Watchfire, okay?"

"Fair enough. I'll drag you back to that Karaoke place instead."

Maria laughed as Vic let out a pained groan and began to protest, knowing full well that he would be happily singing off-key within a few hours.

***

"Oh, these pants'll look just great on him!" Jess announced cheerfully, tossing them to Mel. 

"We're here to get him new _shirts,_" Mel reminded her. 

"Hey, no reason not to coordinate a bit," Jess pointed out. Glancing around to make sure that Cole was out of earshot, she lowered her voice and added, "They'll really show off that great bum of his..."

Mel bit her lower lip, trying not to smile, knowing that it would only encourage Jess. It was the knowledge that Cole only had one other pair of pants and that those were ill-fitting anyway that finally convinced her to get the pants in addition to the shirts. Or so she told herself firmly. After what he had been through, he deserved a few new changes of clothes at the very least.

"He really does need more clothes," she said, ignoring Jess' smirk. "Cole?" she called, looking around.

"Here, Mel," Cole said, emerging from between two racks with a blue sweater in his hands. "May I get this one?" he asked.

"Cole, it's the middle of summer," Mel protested.

"Yes, Mel, but it looks very warm." Cole smiled widely at that thought.

"Yeah, well if it means that I can actually turn on the air conditioning for a change, I guess we'll get you a few sweaters," she agreed. As Jess wandered over to another rack, she moved closer to Cole and lowered her voice. "You still look kind of worried, Cole. Is everything okay?"

"Meterand bit me, Mel," he explained quietly. "I did not bleed _much_, but there _was_ blood."

Mel frowned and shook her head in confusion. "And this is a problem because?"

"I was not in my human form at the time," Cole explained.

Mel stared up at him with wide eyes.

"Hey, guys, everything okay?" Jess asked, rejoining them with a shirt in her hands. "You want to try this one on, too, Cole," she announced, pushing it at him.

"I do, Jess?" he asked blankly.

"Definitely," she said, ushering him towards the changing room.

He glanced at Mel who nodded faintly, her expression assuring him that they would finish their discussion as soon as they had privacy.

"It'll really bring out those great, broad shoulders of his," Jess explained when Cole had vanished into the dressing room.

Mel just gave a distracted nod, ready to buy anything at all just to shorten the trip and get Cole alone again.

***

"Okay, so what's this about your blood?" Mel asked Cole as they put his new wardrobe on hangers.

"Cirronian blood is... not like human blood," he explained.

"How is it different?" she asked curiously. "I mean... will people be able to tell it isn't human blood?"

Cole nodded faintly and retrieved the shirt he had been wearing when he had saved Maria, showing her the bioluminescent stains among the rust-colored blood. Mel stared down at it with wide eyes for a long moment, more curious than ever as to his natural form. Seeing that he looked worried, she was quick to set aside her curiosity and reassure him.

"They won't even know it's blood," she promised him. "There's no way they would ever think that, Cole. It's going to be okay. It will."

"Yes, Mel," he agreed with a slight nod and smile. 

***

"Never seen a thing like it," Miguel told Vic and Maria with a shrug. "It can't have been the only thing he was on, but it's probably responsible for a lot of the mutations..."

"What is it, though?" Maria asked, unaware that, in spite of the closed office door, they were not the only three privy to the conversation. Miles away, Zin, Lana, and Neko were following the conversation avidly via a hidden camera. "Why's it glow like that?"

"Probably some kind of bioluminescent bacteria."

"Bacteria, he calls it," Neko scoffed, watching the monitor.

"What else would a human make of that advanced a protein-string?" Zin asked. "They have no frame of reference for Migarian amino acid strings. They only have 20 or so of their own and _those_ certainly don't bioluminescence..."

"Undifferentiated stem-cells, too," Miguel added. "Probably the reason that his brain was growing."

"Mmm hmm," Lana murmured, shaking her head. "Obviously he didn't bother to have the host's own blood tested for stem-cells."

"Quiet," Zin directed absently. "This is fascinating. A human view on Cirronian physiology without any knowledge that they aren't alone in the universe..."

"A few hormones we're still working on figuring out." Miguel shrugged. "What surprised me was that there was no testosterone at all... that level of aggression, I was really expecting to see quite a bit."

Lana rose, shaking her head and leaving the room. Zin and Neko stared after her in surprise. Gesturing for Neko to stay put and listen to the rest of the conversation, Zin followed Lana from the room.

"Something troubling you?" he asked her gently when he found her in the greenhouse, surrounded by dead and dying plants. The dozens of Vardian and Orsusian plants they had brought still refused to adapt to earth's air.

Lana shrugged helplessly, sighing. "That doctor may not understand what he's seeing, but those Detectives... they're too smart, Zin. They've seen too much already. And one of them is close to the Tracker's consort. What do we do when the connection is made?"

Zin sighed and spread his arms. "Come here, child."

Lana nodded and stepped into his hug, closing her eyes and resting her cheek against his chest. "What do we do?" she repeated.

"If they grow too close, _then_ we will deal with them. In the meantime, they are as _nothing_ to us," he told her firmly. "Daggon will not compromise himself and so he _can_ not compromise us. The humans chose to see the only evidence of our existence here as evidence of some new drug. They willfully blind themselves, exactly as they always have in the past. This is our greatest advantage over them."

Lana looked up at him, nodding. "You're right, sir, of course. You usually are." She smiled and bobbed her head again, reassured by his words. "They are comfortable in their ignorance, even the curious ones."

"Precisely. And so they create explanations to suit their beliefs and we remain invisible to them."

"And as long as we remain invisible, we may continue to operate with impunity," Lana agreed, nodding.

"Mostly," Zin amended softly. "There does remain _one_ obstacle to our victory..."

***

"Mel, do you have a moment?" Cole asked, entering the bar.

"Right back, Jess," Mel said, scuttling to join Cole before Jess could respond and ushering him up the stairs. "Yeah?" she asked anxiously.  

"They have thoroughly analyzed my blood," he told her. "They did not recognize it for what it was."

"Oh, thank God," Mel murmured, giving him a quick hug.

He smiled faintly, hugging her back until she loosened her grip, then releasing her.

"What do they think it is, then?" she asked.

"They believe it to be a drug of some kind, the reason that Meterand acted as he did."

"You're kidding?" Mel asked, staring up at him.

He shook his head faintly. "There are things in my blood that they believe explain some of the mutations they found in his host. Humans call them stem-cells."

"The reason you can heal yourself so fast?" she realized, smiling faintly.

Cole nodded faintly. "They even dismissed the fact that it glows, Mel. They had no idea what it was."

"Oh, great. That's great, Cole," Mel whispered.

He smiled and nodded. "It means that I am safe from their attentions. I may continue to pursue Zin without fear. And I do not have to worry about you being in danger for sheltering me."

Mel stared at him with wide eyes. "That was your big worry?"

"Of course, Mel. What else?"

Mel, who had thought that his worry over the blood he had left behind was worry over his own discovery, just shook her head.

"You should know, Cole, that even if they _did_ know about you, even if they were actively looking... you'll always have a place here, Cole."

"Thank you, Mel," he murmured, reaching out with both hands and gently caressing her throat. "It... comforts me that you care this much."

She smiled faintly up at him, loving the way that his hands felt on her throat. "Well, Cole, it... _comforts_ me that you're still safe. I... life wouldn't be the same without you."

His smile widened and his eyes softened. "Mel..." he began.

"Shh," she whispered, brushing two fingers across his lips to silence him. "I'm just glad you're safe," she whispered. "I... life wouldn't be the same without you," she repeated, impulsively standing on her toes and planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. Blushing furiously, she quickly took a few steps backwards. "I should get back to the bar," she whispered, turning and fleeing.

Cole stared after her with wide eyes, one hand on his burning cheek. Slowly, his shocked expression was replaced by a wide smile.

"Life would not be the same without you, either, Mel," he whispered, shaking his head and returning to the war-room.

**The End**


End file.
